candle forest

we walk without any legs
in the clearing. i have a face 
in my backpack i use just for you.
you woke me up without
any words. your fingers like
fiddleheads. 
they say in the candle forest
that everything is brought out
into the light. all around are
the shadows. they hold
all the parts of me that you
cannot see. sometimes when
we argue i picture a house
on fire. it is a relief. the animals
in the forest are all on fire
& so are their ancestors. 
in the candle forest there are 
wick trimmers who cut more
than waxed string. i stick out
my tongue to have it trimmed.
just a little off the top. the end
that's severed holds everything
i will never say. what a beautiful
newt. he runs into the shadows
to become whatever monster 
i cannot. the ends of our hair 
gets singed. smoke makes clouds.
the clouds peer down in galaxy spirals.
you are the wick cutter or you
are the birds who light up the sky
like stray stars. i used to think
i wanted to be loved. i used to think
i asked for you. did you make
the candle forest or did? i when
i was sleep walking. when my face
was on & bright? all i know is
i am one of the commas who
scurry away when you lift the rock
under which i was trying to hide.
i ask you which candle you want
for me to carry home 
& you tell me, "all of them."